Secrets of an Alpha Male
by J.D. Hawkins
Date Released: October 25, 2016
About Secrets of an Alpha Male
What happens when a cocky bad boy falls for a good girl?
I'm Connor 'Alpha Male' Anderson. Pound for pound I'm the best MMA fighter in America, and I've got the brains, balls, and brawn to back it up - 230 pounds of pure muscle, infinite charm, and the stamina to last all night long. But with the biggest fight of my career coming up, I've got to keep my pants zipped and get my head in the game.
That's when Frankie Jones comes in. An amazingly hot yoga teacher, she drives me crazy with those booty shorts and sports bras. I'll hold downward dog as long as she wants so I can show her my cobra. She's a total bombshell, feisty, and challenges me every step of the way. She doesn't fall for my alpha game, and that only turns me on more. But how can I get myself into her skin-tight leggings, with the pressure of this title match coming up and my trainer's orders to keep it in my pants?
Before I met Frankie, all I wanted was to win this fight.
All I want is her.
Opposites attract in this standalone romance novel with an HEA that will knock you out!
Read my four-starred review of Secrets of an Alpha Male.
Add Secrets of an Alpha Male on Goodreads.
An Excerpt from Secrets of an Alpha Male
I feel about a hundred pounds lighter when I get home from the yoga studio. Like there’s a bubble of calm positivity surrounding me. Even my Pitbull Tyson seems to sense it. Instead of scrabbling around on the hardwood floor like a maniac when I walk through the door, he bounds up to me and lets me roll his face in my hands.
“What’s up, buddy?” I growl back at him. “You feeling as good as I am?”
I lead him out to the backyard and toss a few treats for him to hunt down and eat. We chase each other around the yard a bit, partly to work off any excess energy and partly for the sheer joy of it. Eventually he gets tired enough to take his place sitting on the back porch, watching the birds. I rub his head a little, right close to his scarred ear where he likes it, then go back into the house to take a shower.
Hot water hits my back like a giant, soothing palm, and my mind immediately goes to Frankie, the way she put her hand up against my six-pack. The Python, Tara, it all feels like it happened long ago in a past not worth remembering, not after what Frankie just did for me, how she made me feel. It changes everything.
I close my eyes and try to visualize her, but it’s hard to recreate something so perfect in your mind. The best I can do is remember how she made me feel. Or maybe it was just the yoga. I’m not sure anymore where the line is drawn.
It isn’t long before I’ve got a hard-on, thinking of Frankie’s half-smile as she told me I was doing it right. Of her sleek legs extended behind her when she did the downward dog. Of how even her tight sports bra couldn’t hide the elegant outline of her tits when she curled backwards.
It would have been so easy to put a move on her, to pull that waist up against me, plant my tongue between those fertile lips. I play the scene out in my mind, hand on cock, mouth opening a little as if I could actually taste her. I love eating pussy as much as the next guy, but something about this woman makes me want to go down on her for hours, bury my head between those toned thighs, drink her essence until her tight little body spasms with chaotic joy.
I come hard, slamming a hand against the shower glass to steady myself, a week’s build-up and the impossible pull Frankie compels in me combining to make the orgasm feel like a trigger being pulled inside of me. Tara got one thing right; I have been pretty pent up.
I lean back and let the water continue to hit me, contented emptiness spreading out from my cock. My body is satisfied, but I still can’t get her face out of my head. Still feel like it’s not quite enough.
By the time I get to bed my mind’s going like a washing machine again, just like it always does around this time. I lay there the same way I’ve laid there every night this week, body begging to fall asleep, to let my muscles repair, but my mind going through a million things at breakneck speed. A half-waking nightmare of mistakes I made in sparring blending with the stress of my upcoming fights and stained recollections of Tara—good and bad, though even the good seems bad with hindsight.
About J.D. Hawkins
I grew up in Southern California and now live with my wife in Venice, CA. In between I've lived in NYC, India and Thailand. I love to travel and enjoy surfing, training in MMA and riding motorcycles. I've always enjoyed making up stories, especially ones inspired by real life.
-- J.D. Hawkins
Connect with J.D.